"The past is not dead. It is not even past; it holds, waiting to corrupt the present."
"The murals depict the Triarch quite clearly," she began, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber, the sound swallowed by the sheer volume of the space. "The Genesis prism, the Void… and the Lightforce, intertwined as strands of fate, the fundamental building blocks of existence. This much is known, documented within the most secure vaults of the Imperium. But this… this depiction of Morrath is far more detailed, far more disturbing, than anything I've ever encountered in the Imperial Archives."
Hovering precariously beside her, Widget, chirped in agreement, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with an almost unnerving intelligence. "Ooh, he's a ticked-off-looking fellow, isn't he? All shadows and pointy bits. Like a cosmic bad mood personified. No wonder he lives in a void! When we get back I am putting him on my 'stay away from' list, that's for sure."
Ilstra shot him a withering look, her expression a mixture of exasperation and thinly veiled affection. "Widget, please. This is hardly a joke. Morrath is a threat we thought relegated to myth, knowledge held in the deepest parts of the Imperium. If these murals are to be believed...if the records held within this forsaken temple are accurate…"
She trailed off, her gaze returning to the first mural, her mind struggling to reconcile the ancient prophecies with the cold, hard realities of the present. In the centre of the depiction, a world was cloven in two, not neatly or cleanly, but violently torn asunder, one half bathed in golden light, radiating life and hope, the other consumed by an abyssal darkness, a swirling vortex of chaos and despair. The imagery was unsettling, visceral even, evoking a primal fear that resonated deep within her soul.
"There is something fundamentally wrong here," Ilstra muttered, more to herself than to Widget, her voice barely audible above the sound of her overpowering thoughts. "I don't understand why they would depict a world split in two, by some unseen force. The Imperial records, for all their supposed completeness, make no mention of anything remotely like this. Unless…"
A sudden jolt of realisation shot through her, like a bolt of Lightforce illuminating a hidden chamber in her mind. She snapped her fingers, the sound sharp and decisive in the oppressive silence, her eyes widening with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "The Voidwalker's nightmare…"
Widget tilted his head, his antennae twitching inquisitively. "You mean the scary dreams he keeps yammering about? The one on Eldrath Prime? Full of sand and those… dark scary things? Oh wait… I mean, I know he's a bit of a drama queen, but…"
"Everything, perhaps," Ilstra said, her voice tinged with a newfound urgency. "He described a world consumed by darkness, a world he witnessed being destroyed in vivid detail, a world that haunted his waking hours. The murals, the dream… could they be depicting the same event? The same world? Could the Voidwalker, in his subconscious, be tapping into some ancient, forgotten reality?"
Widget began fluttering excitedly in the air, his eyes beating with frantic energy. "Ooh, oh! I remember him talking about it! Said it was all sand and spooky monsters. Really, really spooky monsters. What was it he said - manifestations of pure darkness. He really didn't like them. Kept saying they were 'wrong', somehow."
Ilstra began to pace back and forth, her mind racing, piecing together the disparate fragments of information like pieces of a complex, cosmic puzzle. "The Voidwalker… Could he be more than just a key to unlocking the secrets of the Triarch? Could he be the answer itself? Could he be a living link to a past we thought was long dead?"
She stopped abruptly, pivoting on her heel and turning back to Widget, her eyes shining with newfound understanding. "Think about it logically, Widget. The God Emperor, the most powerful psychic in the universe, was guided by the Nex to him, drawn to the Voidwalker like a moth to a flame. He inadvertently performed Aethermancy – a feat considered all but impossible without years, even decades, of dedicated study and rigorous training. And you mentioned he told you about the attack on the Nexus Station when he first awoke?"
Widget nodded vigorously, his eyes wide with dawning comprehension. "Yup! Said he felt like... like something was trying to get to him, even before he knew what the void was! Like a dark, shadowy hand reaching out from the depths of space, trying to snuff out his light!"
Ilstra's eyes shone with an almost unsettling intensity. "Why did the void attack him then and there, the moment he awakened? It wasn't random, Widget. It wasn't a coincidence. It was… calculated. Targeted. Predetermined." She paused, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place with chilling clarity. "Morrath… knows his undoing. He recognised the Voidwalker as a threat, even in his nascent state, a flicker of hope in the all-consuming darkness. That's why he tried to destroy him before he could fully awaken, before he could realise his true potential."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their discovery pressing down on them like a physical burden. The Voidwalker, a seemingly ordinary individual plucked from the fringes of the universe, was now revealed to be a pivotal figure in a cosmic struggle, a linchpin in a conflict that may span millennia, a prime target of an ancient and malevolent god. The implications were staggering.
"We need to leave," Ilstra said, her voice firm and resolute, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade. "We need to find the Voidwalker, to protect him, and to understand the full extent of his connection to the Triarch, to Morrath, to everything. The answers we seek lie with him, locked within his mind, buried beneath layers of trauma and uncertainty."
Widget, however, was brimming with an unusual, almost manic excitement. The gravity of the situation seemed to have little effect on his boundless enthusiasm. "Ooh! Adventure time! I love adventures! Especially the ones with lots of explosions and shiny things!" He started zipping around the chamber, his dashing presence leaving trails of shimmering dust in their wake, creating intricate patterns in the air like a living kaleidoscope.
"Widget, behave yourself!" Ilstra commanded, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation yet she couldn't help admire how his trail bounced of the emerald light of the halls. "This is not a game. The fate of the universe may very well depend on what we do next."
But Widget, as was often the case, was oblivious to her warnings. His playful exuberance seemed to fill the chamber, defying the oppressive atmosphere of the ancient temple.
As if in direct response to Widget's unbridled energy, a low rumble echoed through the Emerald Halls, a deep, guttural vibration that resonated in their very bones. The sound grew steadily louder, more insistent, the very stones beneath their feet vibrating with ominous energy. Dust and small pebbles began to cascade from the ceiling, creating a miniature avalanche of ancient debris.
Silence followed then. Not a peaceful silence, but a pregnant, anticipatory silence, heavy with unspoken dread. Complete and utter silence. Even Widget, the ever-restless, ever-chatty companion, ceased his joyous flying, stilling in mid-air.
Ilstra felt a cold chill crawl down her spine, prickling her skin and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She looked up, her gaze tracing the intricate carvings on the ceiling, searching for the source of the disturbance. As she did, she realised something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
A jagged fissure snaked across the ceiling above them, a dark, ominous line marring the perfect symmetry of the emerald stone. Cracks spiderwebbed outwards from the central fissure, like veins of darkness spreading across the surface. Dust and debris rained down, illuminated by the ethereal glow of her light, like glittering tears of despair.
"Widget…" she began, her voice barely a whisper, her throat constricting with a sudden surge of fear. "Something's happening…"
Before she could finish her sentence, one of the emerald walls of the temple, the very wall that had stood for millennia, began to dissipate, the solid stone dissolving into shimmering particles, like sand slipping through the fingers of time. The wall receded, revealing the darkness beyond, a suffocating void that seemed to press in on them from all sides. And within that darkness, something massive stirred, a hulking presence that radiated an aura of primal power and untamed rage.
A guttural roar, like the grinding of mountains, like the death throes of a dying star, ripped through the oppressive silence, shattering the ancient calm of the temple. The chamber was instantly filled with a new, acrid smell – the sharp, metallic tang of ozone and the sickly-sweet stench of burning flesh.
Then, two fiery red eyes snapped open in the darkness, burning like embers in the abyss, locking onto Ilstra and Widget with terrifying intensity. They were the eyes of a predator, cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of mercy.
Ilstra gasped, stumbling backward as a colossal form lumbered into the Emerald Halls, emerging from the darkness like a nightmare made flesh. The creature was a grotesque parody of life, a hulking monstrosity of chitin and muscle, its body a testament to the terrifying power of unchecked evolution. Its overall silhouette was low, broad, and muscular, giving it the distinct impression of a biological siege engine, a living weapon designed for destruction.
The Ravager had awoken.
Its razor-sharp claws, each one longer than Ilstra's Lightforce blade, scraped against the polished floor as it moved, sending sparks flying and etching deep furrows into the ancient stone. Its massive head swiveled from side to side, taking in its surroundings with unnerving precision, its multiple eyes providing it with a 360-degree field of vision. The creature paused, its fiery eyes focusing on the two intruders, sizing them up, assessing their threat level. A low growl emanated from its throat, a sound that spoke of hunger, of rage, and of an insatiable bloodlust.
Ilstra drew her Lightforce blade, the crystalline weapon humming with barely contained energy, its radiant glow illuminating her determined face. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was no ordinary beast, no mere guardian of the temple. This was a creature of ancient power, a remnant of a forgotten age, a living weapon forged for a purpose she could only begin to imagine. And it was bloodthirsty.
"Run, Widget!" she yelled, her voice barely audible above the creature's guttural growls, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. "Get to safety! Out of the temple! I'll hold it off, buy you some time!"
But Widget, for once in his long and chaotic existence, remained frozen in place, his playful demeanour vanished without a trace, replaced by a look of abject terror. He knew, just as Ilstra did, that they were facing a foe far beyond their capabilities, a creature that represented a primal threat to their very existence.
The Ravager roared again, its massive frame tensing, muscles coiling like springs beneath its chitinous armor. It lowered its head, its fiery eyes burning with predatory intent, focusing all its malice upon Ilstra, the closest and most immediate threat. Then, with a speed that defied its immense size, it charged, its massive form a blur of claws, teeth, and fury. A battle of the Emerald Halls had begun.